He huffs out a tiny laugh, even as his embrace tightens.

Ten years. That's barely anything for someone with Dejah's lifespan, but it's, what, a quarter of the time she and John were married? To have so few years together (by her standards), and to have a chunk of that yanked away with no warning, a loved one disappearing with no sign...

(He's thinking of the kids again. Of Gerald, querulously telling his wife he'd be okay, not to worry, he'd come back.)

"I'm sorry you went through that," he whispers.